


Where I Belong

by ausmac



Category: Warcraft (2016), Warcraft - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 21:00:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7773196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ausmac/pseuds/ausmac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Khadgar wonders what he has done to damage a friendship that has grown so important to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Isolation, Khadgar found, could exist even in the middle of a crowd.

Over the weeks since the survivors of Stormwind had arrived in Lordaeron, he’d become increasingly disconnected from events.  There didn’t seem to be a place for him in the new Alliance; neither a politician nor a soldier, and with no experience of the ordering of great events, he had little to offer. 

And it seemed he wasn’t alone in that thinking.  He’d tried to connect with other people in the Alliance upper echelon but they appeared to regard him as an odd interloper.  Certainly he’d assisted in the destruction of corrupted Medivh but there was an undertone of dislike from that, he felt.  Medivh had been loved and admired for so long, some people simply couldn’t accept that he’d turned.   To the soldiers and fighting men and women he was a mage of unknown strengths and little experience.  To the few mages present, he was someone who’d walked away from a high responsibility, and that made him untrustworthy.  Khadgar wasn’t used to finding a place among strangers, and he grew more lonely as the days passed.

And the one person he thought he really knew…well, he didn’t seem to know him after all.

Lothar hardly spoke to him.  Yes, he was very busy – newly appointed as Lord Commander of the Alliance forces, as well as Lord Regent for the young King of poor, destroyed Stormwind, his time was filled with meetings, plans, the organisation and training of troops, the marshalling of resources and a dozen other things.  Yet even when they did meet the warmth that had grown between them was gone.  In its place was a tall stranger who rarely smiled and always seemed to need to be somewhere else other than in his company.

He took to leaving the palace where he was quartered to wander alone through the city.  In the evenings he’d often visit the local taverns, trying to find company there, someone to talk to, anything to fill the void. And he also started drinking.  He’d never cared much for strong drink before but it muted his mind and blurred the growing gloom.

One very late evening he stumbled his way out of a tavern and headed off down the street.  Street lights were set at intervals along the way but between it was dark and hard to see, even sober.  He tripped, grabbed a nearby bush…only it wasn’t a bush.

“Oww!   Let go, you idiot!”

Khadgar blinked and stumbled backwards.  “Ooops.  Sorry.”  He studied the bush.  “You’re a girl.”

“No kidding.  And you’re a drunk.”

“Am not!” Khadgar muttered, nodding.  “Well…a bit.  Sorry about the grabbing.  Not in the habit of grabbing strange bushes…or girls.”

She sighed.  “What a mess.  I suppose if I leave you here you will go to sleep in the middle of the street and get run over by a wagon or something.”

He tried breaking down that sentence into fathomable parts but couldn’t manage it.  “Maybe’” seemed a reasonable response.

“Fine.  I’ll get you home, kid.  Where is your house?”

Khadgar looked about blearily.  “Umm.  I’ve lost it.”

“You are drunk **and** a fool.”

“Yes but that’s really rude.  You need…sheeping.”  He raised a finger and wiggled it at her.

“What are you doing?”

Khadgar looked unhappily at his finger.  “It’s broken..”

He heard another deep sigh.  “Of course it is.  Well, you don’t look very dangerous.  Come on, I’ll take you to my place and you can sleep it off on my couch.  Just don’t vomit or piss anywhere that looks likes its worth anything, alright?” She put an arm under Khadgar’s and around his back and started moving him down the street.  “My name’s Bess MacDonnell by the way.  Do you recall yours?  In case anyone comes looking for the body?”

“Funny girl.  My name is Khadgar.  Pleased… _belch.._ ‘scuse me…to meet you.”

 

The next thing he knew, he was waking up the next morning with a mouth that tasted like the inside of an Orc’s underpants, a rolling stomach and a blinding headache.  He cracked his eyelids up and shoved both hands over his face.  “Demon fire!  Help!”

“Awake at last.”

khadgar opened his eyes again, shading them from the vicious sunshine pouring in through a nearby window.  “Whoever you are…. _aaargh_ …can you turn off the sun please?”

She grinned and went over to the curtains, pulling them closed.  “Sit up, I have something for you.”  She went to a nearby doorway and opened the door, then returned to sit on a chair beside him.

She had a pleasant face, neither plain nor beautiful, but with the prettiest green eyes.  Her hair was red-gold and braided around her head, and she wore the pale grey robes of a trainee Priest.  In her hand was a white, gently steaming mug. 

He swallowed, shaking at the misery in his middle.  “Your name is…Beth?”

“Close.  Bess.  And you’re Khadgar, who probably feels like a recently warmed up corpse.”  She held out the mug.  “Take this, drink it down in one go, and then go over there,” she finished, pointing to the open door.

He eyed it suspiciously.  “What’s in it?  Poison?”

“Close.  Old family remedy with some of my own herbs.  Just drink it.  Hold your nose, it’s a bit pungent.”  She wiggled it slightly.  “Come on, be brave, It will make all the tummy boogers go away.”

Even in the aftermath of a drunk, he could recognise some of the herbs and he sensed it wouldn’t harm him.  So he took the mug in shaking hands, eyes watering at the sharp smell, and swallowed it.

Moments later his eyes bulged, he nearly dropped the mug (which she caught with an oath), held his mouth and bolted for the door, which thankfully led to a privy.  Where he brought up everything in his stomach, and attempted to bring that up as well.

When he staggered back a few minutes later, face white and eyes bloodshot, she smiled mildly at him and handed him a cup of water.  “It's has a little honey in it, to take away the tastes.”

He sipped it carefully and sighed as the headache faded and his stomach finally settling down.  “Thanks.  I probably deserved it.”

She reached over to pat his arm.  “You did, but you should consider it a learning experience.”  She smiled brightly.  “Want some breakfast?  I have some yummy fried chitterlings on the stove.”

He threw a cushion at her.

 

Over the next week Khadgar discovered he’d made one friend.  Bess was in her third year of training at the Lordaeran Abbey, and she’d lived most of her life in and around the city and was an excellent guide.  With Bess he could relax and be himself, and it was fun to be around someone he could laugh with again.  It wasn’t long before she found out who he was and where he’d come from, and it didn’t alter her responses towards him at all.  She was fascinated by his magic abilities and impressed by them, without any touch or either awe or disinterest.  She was just Bess, his friend, and he was her friend in return.

With someone to socialise with, he stopped going to taverns to drink himself to sleep, and spent more time with her, in those times she wasn’t at her lessons.  She started visiting him in the castle and they soon found they shared a love of books.  The first time he took her to the royal library it was taking a child to toy shop, a feeling he knew all too well.  They would spend hours there, talking about what they’d found in the books, their favourite stories, would share opinions and theories on all kinds of things, and come up with outrageous sequels to famous tales.  Now and then he’d see Lothar in passing; he would greet them both in the same cool, neutral air that he’d had since Stormwind. 

After the third such meeting, Bess watched the Lord Commander walk off, her expression intent.  “Boy, you could insta-freeze peas on that ass.  I don’t think he likes me.”

Manfully ignoring the first part of the comment, he frowned.  “I don’t see why he would.  He doesn’t know you?”

“Well he is certainly carrying some sort of dark mood around with him.  Healers tend to have a touch of empathy.  I felt a twinge of it when he was talking.  Odd feeling, not sure what it was.  More sort of in your direction.”  She thought on it, then moved on, turning Khadgar towards the dining room.  “Ah well, not my concern, as I’m sure you’re dying to tell me.  I, as you know, am a poor underpaid almost-priest.  Buy me lunch, I  have the afternoon free, so I can pretend to lose to you at chess.”

Later that same week Lothar sought him out while he was practising casting in a small courtyard.  Surprised and pleased, he stopped and smiled a greeting but his heart sank when he got the familiar expressionless response.

“Today would have been Llane’s birthday and my sister asked me to invite you a small dinner gathering tonight in her quarters.  If you wish to come, please be there by seven o’clock.  Oh,” he finished, as he turned to leave, “and try to be on time.  Dress is social-casual.”

Khadgar nodded silently, watching Lothar stride out of the courtyard. He’d seen Lothar in so many moods over those few terrible days when they'd battled Medivh and the Horde.  He’d seen angry Lothar, as well as fightened, sad, laughing, proud Lothar.  Khadgar had thought they were friends, and he’d begun to realise that this man had started to fill a place in his life he hadn’t even realised was vacant.  But now it was as if the Lothar he’d known had been replaced by a stranger.  _What did I do wrong, Lothar, to turn you away from me so thoroughly?_

His first reaction was not to go because he little experience at parties and something told him this one wouldn’t be that cheery an event.  In the end he decided that it would be rude not at least make an appearance after being invited.  So, at shortly after the appointed hour he arrived in his neatest clothing with hair washed and brushed and his beard trimmed.  The room, a parlour attached to the room assigned to the Queen Mother, already contained around twenty people, few of whom he knew. 

He knew his original instincts had been spot on.  Almost everyone there was a stranger, or people who appeared to actively dislike him.  The Queen was her usual gentle, kind self, but grief hung about her like an invisible cloak.  He got himself a cup of fruit punch, found a chair in a corner and set himself to wait an appropriately polite amount of time before leaving.

Lothar turned up shortly afterwards.  It was odd to see him out of armour or his normal leather work gear.  He was dressed in dark velvet and wool, rich blues with gold trim, a gold lionhead link belt over his Stormwind tabard and unarmed…well, not obviously armed anyhow.  His dark hair was shining and neat, his beard trimmed and he thought… _he looks just…perfect…._ He saw Lothar greet his sister, felt his heart lurch at the sight of that warm, familiar smile and he realised how much he missed seeing it.

Lothar’s eyes scanned the room and stopped at sight of him.  For a moment Khadgar thought he would smile but no, he just looked, blinked and then his eyes moved on as he walked over to greet one of the Lordaeran nobles.  Khadgar looked down blindly at his glass and realised he was clenching it so hard it was shaking.  He wrapped a hand around his wrist and steadied it, concentrating on breathing, on fighting down the ball of misery that was rolling around in his middle.  When he felt calm enough he stood, put the glass down and headed for the door.

“Going so soon?  Don’t you think it would be polite to give your farewells to the Queen?”

He swung around slowly and looked up into Lothar’s eyes.  “Please give her my best wishes.  I am..indisposed.”

“As you wish.” 

He may as well have been dismissing a servant.  Hurt anger boiled up his throat.  “As I wish?  As you wish, obviously.  I’m sure you’re happy to see the last of me.”

The colour faded from Lothar’s face.  “Restrain yourself, Khadgar.  This is not the place…”

“Nowhere is the place, is it.”  His voice warbled as he strove to control himself, to keep his voice low, to stop it from breaking.  “I wish I knew what I’ve done to offend you.  If I knew what it was, I’d apologise.  Or maybe you just find you don’t like me anymore.  If I had a spell to make me feel the same way, then I wouldn’t mind the hurt so much.” 

And before he could say anything else that would embarrass himself any further, he turned blindly away and walked, straight-backed, out of the room.


	2. Chapter 2

The clock on the shelf next to Lothar chimed with a cheerful clap.  He’d been staring at the report for ten minutes without reading a word and as it rang he looked up at it, watching the little gnomish figure wander back and forth tapping an anvil to mark the hour.  Llane had given it to him on a birthday years before as a joke.  “Silliest thing I could find,” he’d said, handing it over wrapped in garish paper, smiling that open, cheerful smile of his.  “You need a bit of fun in your life.”

Right then, he could have done with fun.  Or perhaps serious injury.  One of the two, anything to take his mind off the ugly beast in the room, the one sitting at the desk staring at the silly little clock.

It was two days since the disastrous dinner party and he’d hardly slept at all.  When he did manage to nod off, he kept seeing Khadgar’s face and when he woke, there it was again, wearing that bruised, hurt look.  _You put it there,_ he thought as he slowly crushed the report into a ball.  _You may as well just have just kicked him._

It was strange how life never quite seemed to work out the way you expected it to.  He’d loved his wife and had thought a need for love had been buried with her.  But he’d realised how wrong he was when he found that he wanted Khadgar, not just as a friend, not just as a mage of power, but something much more significant.  When he knew he wanted to touch him, trace the elegant lines of those eyebrows, kiss those wonderful eyes closed and own every part of him.

Then he understood just how perverted he was, to want to touch and take and taste the body of someone almost the same age as his son, and there had seemed only one solution.

To just…stop.  Close himself off from it.  Do his duty for his people, for Azeroth, and deny himself that desire.  Keep and protect Khadgar from him in a box labelled Don’t Go There.  And how could he explain it to Khadgar and not expect to see the shock and disgust in those same eyes. So he couldn’t, because there was no way to tell him why he had withdrawn himself, smothered their friendship, turned into that joy-sucking demon – because the kid just didn’t understand physical boundaries, was always leaning into him or touching his shoulder or grabbing him to point something out that excited him, and it drove Lothar out of his ordinarily sane mind.

He couldn’t seem to come up with a strategy for it.  _Great sort of Commander you are,_ he thought as he smoothed out the crumpled report, _you can plan an army’s Orders of March but you can’t figure out how to deal with a young mage and how you feel about him.  Maybe my heart will atrophy and then it won't feel a thing…_

There was a knock at the door and his aide poked his head around the doorframe.  “Sir, there is a young woman here asking to see you.  Said her name is Bess MacDonnell.  She is apparently a friend of Khadgar’s.  Said it was rather urgent.”

Lothar frowned.  That one.  He’d felt a totally illogical spark of something very much like jealousy when he’d seen them together, so comfortable in each other’s company.   “Ask her what it’s about.  I don’t have time for nonsense.”

A few minutes later he heard voices arguing outside.

“…and I’m going in and if you want to stop me, just try it ‘cause I’ll Smite you really hard!”

There was what sounded like a scuffle and just as Lothar was about to head over to find out what the Powers was going on, a ruffled young woman ran through the door.  His aide appeared behind her, looking annoyed and clutching his hand.  “Sir, I tried to stop her but she bit me!”

“Well, you laid a hand on a Priest…. almost-Priest!”

“Enough!  You,” he said, pointing to Bess, “sit over there and be quiet.  And you,” he said, pointing to his flushed aide, “go and get that seen to and, and…just go!”

He walked back to sit behind his desk.  “What is the meaning of this?”

“It’s about Khadgar.  He’s missing.”

That got his attention.  “What do you mean, missing?”

“As in gone, not here. He left the city yesterday.  He hasn't returned.  I talked to the city guards, they said he left by the south gate mid morning but none of them have reported him returning and he isn’t at his usual places.  And his horse is still gone from the stables.”

Lothar stood and walked around the desk, pulled his sword from its wall rack.  “Did he leave you any message?”

“Just a note, I’ve got it here.”  She pulled a small scroll from her robe pocket and handed it to Lothar, who took it and spread it on the desk.

_“Bess, I need to get away for a few hours and clear my head.  I’m going fishing at the big lake I saw south of here, will be back before dinner.  Khadgar.”_

He walked to the wall bearing the big map of Lordaeran and the surrounding kingdom.  “I assume he meant this,” he said, pointing to Lordamere Lake.

“My guess too.  And that’s not good, sir.  There are a lot of nasty animals down there, not to mention bandits.”  She sighed unhappily.  “If he’d mentioned the idea to me earlier, I’d have stopped him, but he didn’t.  And I started getting really worried when he didn’t return for our dinner date last night, and now he still isn’t back well, I had to come and tell you.”  She shook her head, sighing.  “I just don’t know what he was thinking, going out there alone.”

“Probably because he wasn’t thinking."  He clipped his sword to his belt and looked up, saw her watching him, eyes narrowed in clear disapproval.

“It’s not my place to talk about that.  But I don’t think he is the type of person who normally gets so drunk he can barely stand, so he can’t even find his way home.” 

“No, he isn’t but we’ll worry about that later.  Right now I have to go find him.”  He gave her a tired smile.  “Thank you for being his friend.”

He strode through the Palace, issuing orders as he went.  His horse was being led out as he arrived at the bottom of the steps and he helped saddle it while he waited for the troop he’d ordered to arrive.  As he tightened the girth and lowered the stirrups he sent a message to the council telling them of his intentions.  The ten mounted soldiers joined him a few minutes later and they rode at a canter out through the city’s southern gate. Lothar spurred his horse into a gallop, wishing he had a mage's magic to teleport him to wherever Khadgar was, because that clock was still ticking and any second he could be too late.  _If...when I find him, I won't let him suffer another moment for things that aren't his doing.  Somehow I'll fix this..._

 

The bandits had tied his hands behind his back after taking most of his clothing, piling it all along with the saddlebags and pack he’d brought with him.  They’d not been too happy that he’d had so little in the way of money or valuables on him, and took out their annoyance by pounding on him until he passed out.

Khadgar hadn’t even had time to launch any spells.  The bandits were dirty and stank like dead meat, but they weren’t completely stupid – certainly not as stupid as he’d been to let himself doze against a tree while fishing in strange country.  Their own mage had enough power to freeze him in place and he’d been easily captured and tied, with a gag put over his mouth.

The leader crouched down in front of him and dragged him up to his knees.  The big man was dressed in mismatched, stained gear but the leather armour was serviceable and the weapons on his belt were well-cared for.  The rest of him was a mess - dirty, unshaven, with a scar running across his face from his forehead on one side to his chin on the other; it was a wonder whatever weapon had done it hadn’t taken out his eye.  He grabbed Khadgar by his undershirt and shook him.

“Hardly five gold pieces’ worth in your gear, though the horse is a nice one.  Anyone back in that city might want to pay a ransom for you?”

He shrugged and the man’s eyes narrowed.  “That mark on your arm, Seglin tells me it’s the mark of the Kirin Tor, so you’re a mage like him.  I’ll take off that gag but if you even look like you’re gonna cast something, I’ll cut your tongue out.  Get me?”

Khadgar nodded and the bandit pulled the gag from his head.  He licked his lips and coughed.  “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.  Such nice manners.  Now, answer the question.”

“Someone would probably pay a ransom.  I suppose it depends on how much you want.”

The bandit chief considered it while he picked his teeth with a twig.  “Five hundred gold?”

Khadgar hoped that Lothar might consider paying even more than that, maybe.  “I think so.  You could just let me go and I’ll organise to give you the gold.  On my honour.”

“You may think I’m an idiot,” he said, tossing the twig away, “but I’m not that much of one.. On your fuckin’ honour.  What a joke.”  His eyes narrowed.  “What’s your name?”

“Smithers.  Henry Smithers.”

The bandit reached out and slapped him across the face so hard that his head bounced back against the tree trunk behind him.  “See, no honour, ‘cause I know you’re lyin’.  Your name is Khadgar, from the note in one of those books in your pack.  And Seglin tells me that you’re a pretty important mage, friends with them shit lords in the city.  Seems to me that Orc Gul’dan might pay a bit more for you than five hundred gold.  ‘n Fact, think I’ll send a message bird to him and find out.”

The thought of that made his stomach clench.  “You’ll probably find he has even less honour than you, if you don’t mind me saying so.  He’d take me and suck the life out of the lot of you for a snack.  He doesn’t care much for humans.”

He snorted and pushed Khadgar backwards against the tree.  “We’ll see.  I’m not dumb, I’d take precautions.  He might just pay me to cut your head off and send it back to your friends, but if he’s not interested, we’ll see what them in the city will offer for you.  You just stay there and relax,” he said, as he wrapped the gag back around Khadgar’s head.  “And if you try and escape, I’ll break yer legs.  Archimond’s tits, I might break ‘em anyway, for the sport.”

The band numbered ten, including the leader and his scruffy looking mage.  They settled down to wait for a response to their leader’s message bird, building a fire to cook food and get a decent start on a good drunk.  Nobody paid much attention to him, since he was tied hand and foot, unarmed and wearing only his smallclothes. 

The discomfit of being bound and gagged was made worse as the sun set, by the growing cold.  He decided to try and loosen his bonds before the cold set into his fingers and he began carefully working the knots, moving the ropes gently back and forth to loosen them.  It hurt, the rough fibres tore at the skin of his wrists and his fingers cramped with the effort but after a time he managed to loosen them enough to slide one blood-streaked hand loose.  Carefully, keeping an eye on the bandits for any sign they had noticed his behaviour, Khadgar slid his free hand up to loosen the gag and moved it down from his mouth.  Once he had both hands and mouth he could cast, and he carefully loosened and undid the ropes around his ankles with a whispered gesture.

All the while he’d been working himself loose, he’d considered his options.  Even affected by alcohol, he wasn’t sure he could hit enough of them to cause sufficient damage to enable him to escape.  They were scattered around the camp in different spots, and while he had spells that could affect an area, he’d only need to miss one or two for them to be able to strike back.  His best chance was stealth, rather than attack.  If he could escape into the darkness, he could cloak himself and steal away.

So he waited, shivering in the cold, for the right moment.  A number of them were drinking but guards had been set who were sober, including two that weren’t too far from him.  When the rest of the band had settled for the night, he watched the two closer guards.  They were talking to each other, and eventually a moment came when they were both facing away from him.

Khadgar quietly slid behind the tree, activated his invisibility shield, and moved as quietly as he could towards the deeper darkness of the forest.  But he was no woodsman; after half a dozen steps he trod on a twig and it snapped.  To his nervous ears, it sounded like a boomstick going off.

“Hey, the prisoner is loose.  Wake up you fuckers!”

Khadgar ran, dodging through the trees, cursing the tree roots that banged against his naked toes, lashed by thorns and bushes, dodging low-hanging branches.  He knew he was making noise and that even without being able to see him, their mage would probably be able to track his movement, unless he could get far enough away.  So he kept running.

When the sounds of pursuit faded off to one side, he judged it was safe to slow and proceed more quietly.  It was almost totally dark in the woods, with only the moon for light, and that barely penetrated the canopy of trees.  He had to feel his way, because making any sort of light was out of the question.  He walked until he began to stagger and his frozen feet just couldn’t carry him any further.  Weary and cold, he lay down on the cold earth and tried to cover himself with leaf litter and fallen branches, to wait out the night.  _Next time you want to go fishing_ he thought wearily, _try not to be the thing that gets caught...I'll just rest here for a bit and make a portal when it's safe..._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small section I know but I wanted to assure you I was still working on it (:

He woke to the sound of fighting, the familiar clash of steel on steel, the smashing of undergrowth, horses neighing and men shouting.  Shock pushed Khadgar up to his knees, his chilled body moving dangerously slow; he struggled to stand and was knocked sideways by a hoof flailing into his back.  He yelped in pain, rolling aside, trying to get away from whoever or whatever it was.

It was early morning and the forest was filled with wet silvery mist and a mass of figures, mounted and on foot, moving through the fog like ghosts.  He staggered backwards against a tree trunk as he tried to focus, his back sending shooting pains up into his shoulder.   Breathing was painful and he swallowed against the ache as he held onto the tree and looked about and tried to sort out what was happening.

A horse reared and he recognised the rider as he cut downwards with his sword towards a featureless opponent on foot beside him.  _Lothar_!  Khadgar caught site of another crouching figure sliding towards him from the other side, the shape of a sword in hand and he cast without thinking, sending a white arcane blast that made him cry out at the sudden movement of his back.  The beam caught the attacker and hurled him away to smash into a tree.

The abrupt appearance of magic into the fight caught everyone’s attention, and Khadgar had to throw himself sideways as one of the bandits – for he recognised them now – raised a spear and hurled it in his direction.  Khadgar thought he heard Lothar’s furious shout but his head hit a tree root as he landed and then – black.

 

 _Fade in_ ….. a sense of jolting, being held against someone on horseback… _fade out_ …carried by someone running up stairs, shouting something… _fade out….and in_ ….lying on a bed, crying out in pain as his shirt was removed, an angry voice… _fade out_ ….

Eventually the black slid away into confused waking.  He was on his back, head on a pillow to one side, a sense of tightness around his chest, the sight of sunlight streaming in through a tall window shining on a dark head bent over a sheath of papers at a desk by the window.  He must have made a sound for the head lifted and when he blinked Lothar was sitting carefully next to where he lay.

“Awake, spellchucker?  ‘bout time.”  Lothar’s hand moved with hesitation to rest on his head, fingers touching a sensitive lump at the back.  “You have a big lump here and you had a broken rib, though the healers fixed most of that.  The bandage is to just keep the healed break from coming apart, so don’t move too fast.”

“Won’t,” he said, clearing his throat.  “Water?”

Lothar grunted and reached over to the bedside table, pouring a glass full from a pitcher.  “Here, let me help,” he said, sliding his hand under Khadgar’s head to raise it.  He had to bend closer to rest the glass against Khadgar’s mouth and Khadgar realised he was looking tired; blue-grey shadows lay under his eyes and the eyes themselves looked watery and red.    “You okay?” he asked, between sips.

Lothar’s eyelids drooped.  “Just wonderful, thanks for asking.”

The tone was strange, tight, almost angry.  _He’s still angry at me._

Lothar put the glass back and straightened, expression unreadable.  “Whatever made you go off to the lake unescorted like that?  Don’t you realise how dangerous it is out in that area?  Surely you’ve read the situation reports, I know I sent them to you.  That was a really stupid thing to do, did you even think…”

“Please stop.”  Khadgar clenched his fists, feeling suddenly sick.  “I know, I’m stupid, I get it. But could you maybe…abuse me a bit later…when I’m feeling up to it.”

He closed his eyes, shocked at the tears that filled them and he told himself, it’s just because I’m not myself, that’s all, but he could feel them leak out from under his closed eyelids and run down his face into his hair.  The bed moved as Lothar stood and there was the sound of his steps fading towards the door.  He lay shaking and hurting, body and mind, until the tears dried but even when he finally opened his eyes, he still felt them, all the ones inside he wouldn’t release because if he did, he wasn’t sure he could stop.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Something told him that the time to talk had arrived, and Lothar went in search of Khadgar.

He found him walking back to his room, head bent in thought as he climbed the stairs, and he waited until Khadgar saw him and stopped.  He watched the uncertain look he was all too familiar with form on the Khadgar’s  face and spoke before he could lose his courage.  “We need to talk.”

“Must we?  Every time we do, it doesn’t go very well.”

“I know, and it probably won’t go that well now, but there are thing I have to tell you, and I’ve put it off long enough.” 

He waited, a small cowardly part of him hoping Khadgar would refuse and leave, but he didn’t.  He bowed his head for a moment then raised it, and nodded.  “Very well.  Lead on.”

Lothar turned and climbed the stairs and Khadgar followed him down the corridor and into Lothar’s rooms.  He closed the door behind him and watched as Khadgar crossed to the window and turned to lean back against the sill.  He had the look of someone waiting for punishment and Lothar hated that he was the cause of that uncertainty.

He began pacing, hands shoved into his pockets.  “I’ve treated you badly of late.  I’m sorry for that.”

Khadgar nodded slowly.  “Yes.  I deserve to understand why, I think.”

Lothar didn’t look at him, just stopped and despite having run this scene through his head a dozen times, it still took moments to form the right words.  “I discovered something about myself, and I was afraid if you did too, you’d hate me for it, see me as …not someone you’d want to know.”  He sucked in a deep, steadying breath.  “I thought if I pushed you away, that would keep you safe.  Obviously that didn’t work out too well.”

“Keep me safe?”  Khadgar looked confused.  “Keep me safe from what?”

 _Just say i_ t.  “From me, you fool.”

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about.  What would you do to me?  What could you possibly do that would endanger me?”

There was only one way to avoid a lot of words, which he wasn’t sure he was capable of forming.  So he just moved to cross the small distance between them.  “This.  This is what I’d do.”  And he reached out, took Khadgar’s arms and pulled him forward, and pressed his lips to Khadgar’s in a sudden, almost violent kiss.

Khadgar’s soft mouth opened, he made a small, surprised sound and then he pulled back, tore himself from Lothar’s hands, his eyes wide and bright.

 “Are you…do you mean…”  He couldn’t seem to form complete sentences, but Lothar understood the meaning.

“Yes. So you know.  And you can despise me now, with justification.”

“Oh.”  Khadgar blinked  and then the surprise faded into an odd expression, part anger and part something else.  “Oh you bloody stupid idiot.”

And when he thought life couldn’t get any odder, he watched as Khadgar reached forward and punched him in the shoulder.  Then waved his hand rapidly and scowled.  “Ouch!  Damn it!  Even trying to hurt you hurts me.  There’s no satisfaction in that at all, have to remember that…”

Lothar watched him, confused and wondering and then Khadgar put both hands on his chest and pushed him backwards against the wall.  He didn’t fight the push though he could easily have done so, for his strength was much greater than Khadgar’s.  Lothar just moved backwards unresisting to stop against the stone and watched the bane of his life press forward against him.  Watched, still frozen in place, as those two clever, magical hands reached up to frame his face and pull him down and then he was being kissed by that frustrating, overactive, very soft mouth.  Which was still talking, saying he didn’t know what, possibly calling him names or forming a spell or something equally confusing.  But still kissing him, wonder of wonders.

Lothar groaned then, and wrapped his arms around Khadgar’s back, lifted one hand to the back of his head and held him there, as Khadgar explored his mouth and continued making satisfied, angry sounds.

The release of all those months of anguish took his legs from under him and he slumped down and Khadgar sank with him, ending up sitting across his lap.  Lothar let his head sink back against the wall as Khadgar’s mouth moved down over his throat.  He’d stopped talking but was still making sounds, a sort of busy, humming noise. 

“So.”  He cleared his throat and rested his chin on the top of Khadgar’s head.  “You don’t mind me wanting you so much it drives me to distraction, then?  You don’t find that at all…wrong?”

Khadgar’s body began to shake and Lothar stiffened.  Then realised it was laughter. 

“Wrong?  So totally not wrong.  It's where I want to be, with you, till the day I die.”  He nudged Lothar’s chin aside and kissed his face at the side of his mouth, rubbing his cheeks through Lothar’s beard.   His mouth hovered over Lothar's, close their breaths mingled, and then ran a shaking hand through Lothar’s hair.  “If you don’t mind, could you please take me home.”

It was as if Lothar had suddenly learned a new language, so that Khadgar's words made perfect sense.

_…if you knew how much this moment means to me,_  
and how long I’ve waited for your touch.  
and if you knew how happy you are making me  
I never thought I’d love anyone so much.

 _It feels like home to me, it feels like home to me,_  
Feels like I’m all the way back where I come from  
It feels like home to me, feels like home to me  
Feels like I’m all the way back where I belong.

_From “Feels Like Home” music and lyrics by Randy Newman_

_Thank you Mr Newman for one of my favourite songs_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to take a look at my Live Journal WoW story and fic recommendation community at http://wowwords.livejournal.com/


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